


Night Time Regrets

by Lotornomiko



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season Two based. Their encounters in the Enchanted Realm have left Hook and Emma with similar regrets. And an unacted upon attraction that still holds nightly sway over their dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Standard Disclaimer Time: I do not own Once Upon A Time, Hook, Emma or any other characters from that show. I do not make any money off them or off of this story. It is written purely for entertainment purposes.

\----Michelle 

 

It's not so much the sound, but the feel of dry, crumbly sand shifting under foot that really draws Emma into the dream. That makes it feel real, her sturdy boots slipping before she finds somewhat steady footing on the sand. That sand stretches on for miles, it's dull gray covering things that had once been alive, had once been vibrant with color and vitality. But now not even so much as a single shoot of green exists, the sand rendering this place into a barren wasteland long before Emma had ever been born. 

It's not a place to be visited on a whim. Only the most needy, the most desperate would come here, and even then it would be overlooked by most. Very few would have the knowledge, let alone the ability to find and use what the sand hides. Emma's not sure Cora fits as desperate, though the woman does have the needy part down. And it is Cora who is responsible for the sound of water gushing unfettered in this place. 

The water's noise is loud. So loud it hides Emma's approach. Cora's too busy gloating to even suspect that something might be about to upset her plans, and the woman's gasp is gratifying to hear when Mary Margaret's arrow knocks the compass out of the witch's hand. 

Just like in her memories, Emma shouts. Her statement about how Cora wasn't going anywhere, that the portal would take them home instead, is not about taunting the woman. It's simply cold hard fact, Emma the desperate, determined one used to making things happen to her favor. 

Caught up in the moment, Emma forgets that this is not just a memory, but also a dream. Where desires and ambitions are warped, and lines are blurred. Where outcomes are not set in stone, things twisting be they by regret, desire, or some unspoken need. Emma tells herself that she doesn't regret anything about that day, that there had been no desire greater than the one to go home to her son. And she's certainly not about to admit to needing anything, let alone from Cora's companion. 

Hook. 

Dressed all in black leather, the pirate looks every inch the villain Emma wants him to be. With the sword in his hand, the ruthless look of his expression, it makes it even easier to forget the man she had left on top of the beanstalk. The man whose dark eyes had shone with the hurt of Emma's betrayal, his voice breaking as he shouted after her, bewildered over the mistake he thought she was making. 

Emma had been sure she was doing the smart thing, the right thing, the only thing she could do. She hadn't in any way been able to trust him, everything about the pirate setting off alarms in her head. Loudest of all, had been the alarming fact that she had noticed him at all. That she had felt stirrings inside her, a lust Emma had though buried, coming alive after being dormant for so long. A lust that had her questioning everything, right up to the reasons behind her motives for leaving the pirate behind. 

Had it been because she couldn't trust him, or was it because Emma couldn't trust herself where the pirate was concerned? Had she been leaving him behind, or was is that she had been running away, fearing that where lust went her heart would follow? Perhaps it was that unsettled fear that brought her back to Lake Nostos. Certainly Emma thought that if she would choose to revisit her time with the pirate, it would be before things had gone wrong, before she had ruined any chance of them happening, and put that hurt look of betrayal in his eyes. 

But he's not looking hurt right now. If anything he's laughing, looking lively if menacing with that sword in his hand. He doesn't seem at all bothered that she's fighting with him, heaping flirtatious praise one minute, then boasting his own prowess the next. He has a right to it, Hook a master with the sword, a weapon Emma's only just begun to learn how to use. It's no wonder Hook has Emma on her back within five minutes of their fight, and it's all she can do to hold him at bay, and even that won't be enough, her stomach twisting at his smirk. 

It's not exactly unpleasant, the feelings that surged at being pinned by the pirate. There's this weird little flutter of her heart, it's beat increasing, Emma realizing she's excited. All because she's wanted to see Hook on top of her, wanted to have him gaze down and make her the focus of that intense stare of his. He has a way of looking at women, his eyes growing dark with sin and promises, and it would take a stronger woman than Emma to be able to resist entirely. 

Sex and seduction oozing out of every pore, wicked sin his very nature by default, Hook is the kind of man that should be made illegal in all fifty states. He's like a drug, and one hit won't be enough, Emma's excitement increasing, things tightening inside her to hear Hook speak to her in a throaty purr. 

"Normally..." A lascivious curl to his lips, he's got her sword caught between his blade and that hook that replaces his left hand. The metals all slide and rub together, Hook slowly pressing closer to her. "I prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back..." 

Even now, the things he says are provocative, heating her blood, making Emma imagine it. Hook without his shirt on, that necklace he's wearing dangling over her, it's metal warmed by his skin. The hard lines of his body under her hands, muscles tense and flexing as he moves his hips, the pace harsh, relentless, unforgiving. 

The situation doesn't allow for more than a second of devotion to her rampant imaginings, Hook still a threat, and talking. 

"But with my life on the line..." He says, the insinuations and the downright playful feel Hook had been maintaining recedes. Is that a shred of regret in his eyes, or is Emma remembering wrong? Does it even matter, when it's a dream? Is some part of her trying to make Hook into something that he hadn't been, warring with the side of her that needs him to be a complete and utter bastard so that Emma can feel better about all they had done to each other? 

"You've left me with no choice." He adds, and Emma both bristles and alternatively flinches at the accusation in his voice. It wasn't just the sword fight that had pushed his hand. It's everything coming right back to Emma's inability to trust, a line in the sand drawn with boundaries near impossible to meet, because SHE kept changing the rules. Not just with Hook, but with all men, Emma quick to hurt rather than be hurt. 

"A bit of advice." Her sword has been rendered useless, turned aside by a simple twist of his hook. "When I jab you with my sword..." Pearl white teeth flash, the words he is saying chosen with deliberate care, taking his insinuations up to a whole other level that's almost obscene. "You'll feel it." 

Her outrage flares, Emma angry. Not with him, but with herself, and all because she's reacting to his words. Because instead of hating it, hating him, she's feeling a mix of longing and loss, realizing everything is screwed beyond repair and it just might be her fault. Maybe she could have trusted him, but then it's not as if she'll ever know for sure. And it haunts her, that not knowing, but not half as much as he does, Emma more than curious as she wonders what it would be like to be wrapped up in those strong arms for longer than a few seconds. 

Anger and regret mingle with an unhealthy does of yearning, Emma shifting beneath him. Not to distract him with the compass the way her memories SHOULD play out, but to lash out with her hand instead. To slap him resoundingly on the cheek, the smug light in his eyes saying Hook knows he's gotten to her, but that he doesn't realize just how. Because Emma's not pushing him away, though she does reach for him. She makes a fist around that dangling length of chain, and uses the necklace to haul herself and him together, Emma kissing Hook hard. 

She tastes his shock, has thrust her tongue into his mouth before he can react. Tasting him thoroughly, her tongue a far better weapon than any sword she might have tried to wield, the tip of it rubs over the length of his. It makes them both shudder, and the sound of two swords hitting the sand clatter in the back of Emma's awareness. 

Hook doesn't kiss her back until after he roughly fists her hair. That securing grip is just this side of hurting but the pain is such that it feels good. Her senses already so conscious of him, come alive, humming with pleasure at his commanding grip. Just as harsh and punishing is his kiss, Hook pulling on her hair, kissing her full out with tongue, lips and teeth. Emma tastes blood, feels the sting of his teeth on her lip, the pain a searing brand that marks her as Hook's for just this moment. 

She bites him back and feels the way his breath hisses out of him. And just like that they are fighting for control, neither one willing to surrender to the other, but neither are they willing to stop. Their tongues are pushing at one another, his grip on her hair unrelenting. The metal of Hook's necklace is digging into her hand, and similar groves are being pressed into the pirate's neck by it, and Emma won't let go, needs that necklace as an anchoring chain against the passion that threatens to consume her completely. 

She's already dizzy with her raging need, panting into the kiss, suffocating slowly on Hook. Emma can't break away, doesn't even want to try, and he's not letting her get away this time. His grip on her hair never relaxing, never gentling, Hook holds her prisoner and swallows down the mewling protest she makes. Everything starts to spin, and she's lost her grip, falling back against the hard sand with Hook on top of her. 

His weight pinning her down, Emma is aware of every hard inch of him. Especially that throbbing presence pressing between her legs, straining against the confining leathers of Hook's trousers. Emma lifts her hips, actually starts grinding against his dick. A jerk on her hair isn't enough to get her to stop, not when Emma needs this and from him. 

Another hard pull on her hair, and when Hook finally breaks the kiss, Emma is red faced and panting. She shakes with her hard gasps for air, grabs at his arms in an attempt to ground herself in the present. Hook gives her the most wicked smile, Emma's fingers curling in response on the leather of his coat. She's thrilling at the possibilities that look promises. She still gasps when he forces down her hips, the sharp tip of his hook running over the seams of her jeans. Splitting not only the jeans, but the fabric beneath it open, Emma shivers as cold air meets with her already damp flesh. 

Emma swears she will slap him, if Hook so much as breathes a smug word about her body's quick and ready state. She's never been this wet this fast without a lover stimulating her with something more than kisses. Hook's barely touched her below the neck, and yet Emma is gushing for him. Has been since the moment he had first crouched on top of her, and filled her head with images by insinuation alone. 

But this is past insinuations, the dream having spiraled out of control. Lake Nostos itself has changed, Cora and Mary Margaret gone. A dark velvet sky is above them, the sand having grown soft beneath her. The stars aren't half as bright as the gleam in Hook's eyes, his teeth flashing amidst a hungry smirk that Emma can't bear to look at anymore. She throws her arms up, covering her face with them, hiding from Hook and from herself, from her embarrassment over how much she wants him. 

Her body doesn't care about any of that, wet and aching for Hook to do something, anything more and then a lightning sharp pleasure jolts through Emma. Her hips try to draw back, Emma bolting at the hot sensation of Hook's mouth. At the feel of that seeking tongue, moving with deliberate care over the furled folds of her flesh. Emma cries out, blossoming beneath his attention, and again tries to jerk back. Her progress is stopped by the arms dragging her forward, the pirate having hooked both of his over her legs. Her arms lower, Emma treated to the sight of Hook bent over her. His tongue fluttering, lapping eagerly at her melting center and Emma can't hold still, is actively fighting his grip though she doesn't really want to get away. 

But neither can Emma give herself permission to enjoy. Not when it feels too much like a surrender, Emma squirming against his tongue. She remembers how to move her arms, hands reaching for him, the clean feeling texture of his dark hair under her questing fingers that then dig nails into his scalp. The pain causes his teeth to scrape, Emma jerking on his hair, having to fight Hook to haul herself free of that maddening tongue. He doesn't glare until after she's slapped him, Emma shaking with more than exertion. She shakes again at the near feral growl he gives her, the sound lending an uncivilized slant to the man, to the proceedings, to the lust bubbling between them. 

It's unbearable, Emma letting out an urgent sound. It's a considering look Hook gives her, the man lowering his head. That ruthless flicker of his tongue teasing against her clit brings Emma rocking against the arms restraining her, Emma hissing a curse at him. 

"Bastard." 

She FEELS his laughter, her flesh smothering the worst of it, Emma jerking on Hook's hair once again. He's not going to move until he's good and ready, seems intent on torturing her in this way. Infuriating as he is proving ruthless, Hook's making a soaking wet mess of her and she can't stop wanting more. 

Fingers in his hair, fingers to her mouth, Emma is biting down screaming. Writhing as her whole body tenses and shakes, Emma can't stop moaning. Rising higher and higher, every stroke of tongue bringing her closer, her body reaching for that pinnacle point that continues to dangle just out of reach. And then Hook's sliding inside her, and he hasn't even bothered to remove his clothes, but then neither has she. 

Full of him in both body and senses, Emma clings to Hook, her legs locking behind his back. There's barely room to move, to breathe, and yet Emma is still trying to get closer and finding the limits of one's body in this endeavor. Her toes curl in her boots, Hook's mouth on her neck, and Emma realizes it's her that is whimpering, begging, pleading to anyone who will listen, her tense body poised to spasm into release and instead she jerks out of the dream with a shout. 

Sweat soaked sheets twist around her bare legs, Emma upright and panting. Her hair is wild from her many toss and turns, and the thin T-shirt she wears feels too hot, it's collar too restrictive around her throat. Vaguely Emma is aware of the TV, a woman screaming at the discovery of a body in some murder mystery. Even as she feels irritated at being jolted out of the dream by it, Emma hopes the TV's noise will have provided cover for her own scream. 

Emma's not in the best of moods. She's cranky and irritable, downright angry with herself. Emma knows she shouldn't be dreaming of the pirate unless as a nightmare of the most horrific kind. Hook's a bad man, who's left her to die once, and actively tried to kill her not too long later. He almost succeeded in keeping Emma from her son, Hook hadn't been anyone she had been able to trust. There were dozens of reasons more why she shouldn't be wanting him, and yes, some of those reasons were her own fault. 

And yet when she dreams, none of that seems to matter. The blame falling away, until nothing is left but pure wanting. In Emma's dreams the situations play out differently, she's had Hook on top of the beanstalk, has been ravished in a cell by him, has even taken advantage of him in the forest. He's awakened something inside her, some unfulfilled need she'll keep on denying, even as her panties are soaked from just the thought of him and the T-shirt rubs uncomfortable against her stiff nipples. 

It doesn't matter how much her body responds to him, dreams are all they'll ever have. She's safe in Storybrooke, and Hook's trapped in that other realm. They'll never meet again, Emma won't have to make a fool of herself fighting such a fierce desire, though she will live with regrets. Wondering how it could have been, if anything could have come from such an undeniable attraction if betrayals hadn't been the flavor of their match ups. And maybe one day, a night will pass where she won't dream of the pirate, won't be haunted by the memory of him and the hurt look SHE had put in his eyes. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...


	2. Two

Hook supposed he should have known that the betrayal was inevitable. It wasn't as if the Swan woman had trusted him, and that was before she had found out he was a pirate. His one chance to make a good impression, lost to what he was, to a reputation he hadn't even been aware of having, and yet Hook had still hoped for a different outcome. One that didn't end with him trapped atop the beanstalk, left behind by a woman who had completely suckered punched him, and it didn't have all to do with her betrayal and everything to do with an attraction he was sure wasn't one sided. 

Of course he's noticed women before. Has actively charmed them to get what he wanted. But it's never gone beyond the physical, Hook's never let a woman get under his skin, let alone anywhere near his fractured heart. And yet with the Swan woman, with Emma, it had almost been more than just a flirtation. He had needed her to trust him, had needed them all too, but with her it had almost become a necessity and Hook still didn't understand why. Was it because he had sensed a kindred soul, a woman with a past, and a hurt of her own? A hurt so deep she couldn't see past it to let down her guard, not even to trust the one man who hadn't been about hurting her? 

All that's changed now. Hook's had hours to get over his shock, the downright bewildered feelings he had experienced at Emma Swan's betrayal. He had been dismayed, desperate, pleading, as he shouted after her. Had actually screamed his voice hoarse all on the hope she'd hear and come back. That she'd recognize what a mistake she was making and come back for him. But it's two hours after the act, and Hook has had time to face the facts. She wasn't coming back, and he wasn't going anywhere, least of all to the land without magic. 

Anger surges at that, chasing away some but not all of his hopeless feelings. Hook knows he has gambled and lost, that not only will he NOT be going to Storybrooke, but that Cora will most likely kill him for HIS betrayal. The life that he's been living, the revenge that he's been seeking, all ending on a pathetic note, and he's through making excuses. Through trying to justify what Emma had done. All that is left is his anger, a red hot burst of it boiling over, swallowing up his lost feelings at being abandoned, and the clink of the manacle that binds him in place. 

The silver bracelet is like nothing Hook has ever before seen, fitting tight around his wrist, and proving impervious to his hook. He's tried pulling on it, tried picking the locking with the tip of his hook. He's made a red ruin of his wrist, and Hook is still yanking and pulling, ignoring the pain for the freedom he wants. The skin there is not just raw from his efforts, it bleeds in places, the pain only serving to further his anger. The things he would do, the ways Hook would make Emma pay. And none of them seem enough, because none of them can quench the desire that STILL burns in him, the woman like a poison that has seeped lust into his veins. 

He rages because of it, because of the feelings Emma has made him feel. As much as it hurts to have lost his chance at Rumplestiltskin, it hurts more to be abandoned by the woman. By the woman who is making him truly feel for the first time in several hundred years, and he doesn't at all like that he's noticed her beyond the possible fuck she could be. He's noticed the weak fluttering his damaged heart has done, has felt it react to the feel of her in his arms. Only to break the instant she had turned her back and walked away without so much as a second look. 

The hope that his heart had been building had died then. Any chance of a future between them gone because of her actions. Hook's hurting, mourning the could have beens, and trying to use his anger to fuel his escape. All he's doing is coming close to breaking his wrist, and Hook might not even care if the result traps him on the beanstalk for a lot longer than a few hours. 

His actions growing increasingly violent, Hook is trying everything to get free. Even as he knows nothing but the key will succeed at freeing him from the bracelet, his arm jerks harder and harder, and his hook cuts into his wrist in an attempt to wedge in the space between it and the bracelet. 

And then suddenly hands cover his, his hook stilling in the moment. He's not sure what to think, but knows it can't be Cora for the witch wouldn't be pressing her body against his back. And then he hears the crinkle of leather, and smells the scent of her hair as her face buries against the back of his shoulder. Hook's eyes slide close, and he breathes out her name, all the while not knowing what is stronger, his relief that she's come back, or the anger over the fact that he's finally realized this is only a dream of what could have been. 

It's a dream he's had before, more times than he cares to count. In the dream Emma realizes her mistakes, all of them. Everything from her betrayal, to the fact she had been wrong about him, Emma coming back at the last possible second. Everything is set right by this one simple action, none of the hurt that follows happening. Hook doesn't scramble, doesn't have to do everything he can to get back in Cora's favors. He and Emma aren't enemies, he doesn't leave her to die a slow death, and she doesn't leave him behind for a second time. 

But there's no changing what has happened. They've run roughshod over each other, have hurt and been hurt through both of their actions. Together they've ruined any chance of them happening, and if he was honest, Hook would acknowledge that the fault was just as much his as it is hers. Because he hadn't been able to trust anymore than Emma had, Hook holding back a piece of his story. Lying to her about the reason WHY he was after Rumplestiltskin, letting her think his vengeance had no more to it than compensation for the loss of his hand. But to speak of Mila and her loss would have been more pain than Hook could have born, and even now it hurts to think of the woman he had loved and lost. 

It hurts to think of Emma too, though he's not in love with her yet. And Hook's done all he could to ensure that love never has a chance. And maybe just maybe he wants it that way, Hook preferring to be alone, than the pain that comes from loving someone too much. But all the backstabs in the world can't stop desire from it's course, and it's not just his heart that is yearning for what Emma could have been. Hook wants her on the most basic of levels, wants her in the worst way possible. That desire is enough to torment him, Emma and the wanting of her haunting his every dream. Hook wonders if he'll ever be free of her, if there will ever be a night where she doesn't come to him. 

A distraction he can't afford, yet one he can't free himself from, the Emma of his dreams stays pressed behind him, waiting to be acknowledged. 

"You're not real." Hook says out loud and frustration fills him. "You're not here, and this didn't happen." 

But it doesn't matter, his desire for her, and wish that it could have been otherwise, is stronger than any need to escape Emma and the dream of her. His hook is no longer cutting into his wrist, Emma's not having to stop him from hurting himself anymore. His arm drop to his side, and hers wrap around him, giving him a hug that's far from comforting, and yet Hook can't bring himself to send her away. Not even when she begins nuzzling her cheek against his neck, Emma's hands planting flat and firm on his chest. 

Again his eyes close, Hook letting her hold him and more. Those hands of hers caress him, brush palms over what skin his shirt shows, making Hook shiver and hiss. Her nuzzling becomes more, her cheek replaced with lips, as Emma kisses along the skin of his neck. His heart beats erratically in response, Emma's lips finding his pulse. And just like that he becomes feverish, burning up with desire and need, and unable to turn completely because her bracelet still chains him in place. 

"Emma..." Hook tries to speak, but the sound is lost to self satisfied purr she lets out. Her hands caress over to his shoulders, sliding the coat off, and halfway down his arms. "The bracelet." He speaks, and she ignores him, tearing at his shirt so she can bite down on the skin between his shoulder and neck. 

It's just the right amount of pain, Hook starting with a hiss. Emma bites him again, and his arm starts to rise, the bracelet stopping his hand from getting anywhere close to touching her. Hook makes a frustrated sound, tries to twist as best he can to face her. She's already anticipated this, moving into him, kissing him square on the lips with all the passion and need that is a mirror of his own. 

It's not that he doesn't suddenly not care that she's nothing more than a dream, it's just too tiring to fight her here, and her kisses are too tempting to ignore. With the firm press of them, her lips kiss don't just coax a response out of Hook, they demand it. Leaving him breathless and gasping, Hook unable to get enough of her, and he's kissing her back with the same force and intensity. 

For a small eternity, he's lost to the dream. To the feel of her mouth on his, Emma just as hungry and needy as him. She keeps her body pressed against him, actively rubs herself against him, making Hook shudder. That reaction makes him kiss her harder, and it's not enough, his arm moving as his hand attempts to reach for her. The force that forbids him that touch is accompanied by a sound Hook is familiar with. A sound that he hates, the pirate hearing the tell tale clink of the silver colored bracelet. 

That sound is like a bucket of cold water, dousing much of the fevered lust running rampant through his veins. With a growl that mutes his curse, Hook tears himself free of her beguiling lips. But he's not truly free of her, even without the bracelet because it's not it that truly holds him prisoner but her. The memory of her, and the resentments over what could have been. His heart which had begun to hope again, has filled the rest of him with the whimsical, Hook longing for what was denied him. It's not a wish that can die easily, even though the odds seem insurmountable. But a part of him must foolishly think otherwise, longing for the impossible. For HER. 

Hook stares at the dream figment of Emma, the woman who is all his regret, hope and desire wrapped into one being, and something just breaks inside him. Because it's not enough, a dream alone will never be enough to satisfy all that is stuttering into life inside him. Only the real woman herself can stand a chance of it, and she's already walked away from him twice. And there's only so much hurt and heartbreak Hook can bear. Because losing Mila had nearly killed him, and after all that's happened with Emma, the hurt they've both done each other? It's a path of pain and rejection Hook won't go down, even as he's not sure how to exorcise his dreams of her. 

Already so affected by Emma, Hook can only hope that they're wrong about absence making a heart grow fonder. Because he's going to do his damn best to continue on without her, and he certainly doesn't intend to cross paths with her in Storybrooke. He'll do what he came there for, and if Hook survives, well there's a whole new world out there for his ship to explore. And maybe, just maybe, with enough time and distance, Hook will be able to forget the woman who had had the potential to be the second greatest love of his life. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...


End file.
